


Achoo!

by Sincerely_Sierra



Series: Alice [4]
Category: Ratched
Genre: Baby Alice, Doctors, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sickfic, Vulnerability, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: When Mildred gets sick, Gwendolyn realizes Alice cannot be immunized because she is not considered a real person by the state. Mildred can fix that.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Alice [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061582
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	Achoo!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2021! As you can tell, I enjoy injecting my real-life issues and emotions into my work. In this installment, we take a look at Mildred being a baby herself when she’s sick, and the sudden realization that, well, they technically do not have a child and Alice doesn’t really exist because she’s not registered. 
> 
> I remember when I had a bulging eardrum with a double ear infection. Worst pain of my life, and I spent years in the closet, I know pain. I decided to make Mildred suffer that pain (not being in the closet, we already saw that). 
> 
> As always, enjoy! And a happy new year! 
> 
> —Sincerely, Sierra

Monday evenings were quiet and safe for Mildred and Gwendolyn. Tuesdays were Mildred’s off days, and Gwendolyn took time every Monday night to cook something savory and warm, especially with the temperatures dropping in mid-November. Tonight it was soup and crackers, because, although Mildred outright refused to admit it, she had a little sniffle that was beginning to concern Gwendolyn as it grew into a blocked nose.

Mildred was curled up in bed, reading a book about something Gwendolyn could not fathom, while Alice played contently in her new playpen, although she could only half-sit propped by a pillow and blanket and “playing” consisted of kicking her legs and scaring herself with her own hiccups. She had been fussy and refusing her pacifier all day, much to Gwendolyn’s fretting, because it was very uncharacteristic for Alice. 

Gwendolyn pretended she didn’t witness Mildred tugging at her earlobe. The younger woman held her book in one hand while the other toyed with her ear, pulling and fiddling and tugging as if she had earrings in and felt neurotic enough to play with them like Alice did. Gwendolyn did not miss the flashes of pain across Mildred’s face as she pulled, and she frowned just as the soup began to simmer down. 

“You need to see a doctor, darling,” Gwendolyn said she poured the soup into two bowls and set them on the table. “Your ear hurts, doesn’t it?” 

Mildred shook her head, but the subsequent wince and clench of her eyes and jaw proved otherwise. Gwendolyn chuckled and brought Mildred’s bowl to her on a floral tray. As expected, Mildred refused the soup and gently but gratefully pushed it away before resuming fiddling with her ear. Sighing to herself, Gwendolyn kissed Mildred’s temple and left the soup available, on the slim chance Mildred changed her mind and decided to eat a bit. 

The motel room was a disaster. It didn’t matter how much effort Gwendolyn put into tidying and scrubbing and mopping; the room was torn upside down. Having a new baby around meant endless dirty diapers, stale bottles of leftover formula, and baby clothes strewn about, unknown if clean or dirty, at that. As Alice outgrew her newborn shirts and diaper covers and the air became frigid and cool, Mildred had resorted to using her own sweaters to keep Alice warm, because why buy clothes if she was only going to outgrow them?

A pot of formula was coming to a boil on the stove as Gwendolyn washed the bottles with a gentle dish soap. Through bleary vision, Mildred observed Gwendolyn as she rushed around throwing baby blankets and clothes into the laundry basket while allowing the bottles to soak for a minute, a marathon of multitasking Gwendolyn had become a master at. 

Mildred hobbled out of bed, a rush of pain slamming into her entire face as she gripped the nightstand. Her back buckled beneath the pressure of her sickness. Gwendolyn hadn’t noticed her out of bed yet, a feat which Mildred was thankful for, but her disobedience became obvious as Mildred almost fell into Alice’s playpen, only stopped by Gwendolyn’s quick reflexes pulling her over the crib bars. 

“In bed, darling,” Gwendolyn cooed as she helped Mildred into bed. “You need rest.”

“But you need help,” said Mildred, into a hardened tissue. “You shouldn’t do it all on your own.”

“I’m almost done. You need to rest now,” replied Gwendolyn as she brought the covers up to Mildred’s chin and brushed her hair from her face. “You’re so warm, sweetheart. I’ll finish cleaning up here and I’ll check your temperature then, okay?” 

Mildred nodded and sunk into the pillows as Gwendolyn hurried to slurp down her dinner, although not very hungry or in any mood to eat knowing Mildred wasn’t feeling well. Alice needed to be fed and bathed for bedtime, and the laundry needed folding, and Mildred needed her temperature taken. The room was spinning like a marble bowling ball across an alley. 

Alice was fussing, again. She had been fussier than normal for the past few days, and Gwendolyn was agonizing over her at all hours. Gwendolyn leaned over the playpen and stuck her tongue out at Alice, who had kicked her pacifier away from herself and was now wailing into the abyss. The woman scooped Alice up and bounced her against her shoulder while wandering to the kitchenette to check on the formula, which was beginning to simmer down. 

One-handed, Gwendolyn poured the milk into a bottle and replaced the nipple before carrying inconsolable Alice to the bed, where she cuddled up next to Mildred and began to feed the baby, who tilted her head back and screamed like she’d been dropped from a third story window. 

“Come on, honey,” Gwendolyn pleaded. Alice refused the bottle, her back arching like a cat’s, while Gwendolyn fretted and shushed her. “It’s warm. Come on. Take it.”

Mildred blew her nose again and winced, her hands coming up to her ears. It felt like a symphony of drums beating a rhythm against her skull, and her breathing seemed more labored, and goddamnit, if Alice didn’t stop crying—

“She won’t take it!” Gwendolyn declared to the wall as she tossed the bottle aside and began patting the baby’s back. “Mildred. She’s warm, too.”

Watching Gwendolyn fret so hard over Alice was frustrating for Mildred, even when she was ill. She reached out in offering, and Gwendolyn hesitated for just a second before passing the baby onto her, though keeping one hand braced in case Mildred was too weak to hold her. Mildred held Alice in her lap and used one thumb to pry the baby’s lower lip down by her chin. 

“Oh, I see,” said Mildred. “Overachiever.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes clouded in confusion. Mildred must’ve been talking through her fever at this point.

“What is it?” Gwendolyn asked.

“She’s teething already,” Mildred replied. Alice was still wailing and kicking her legs, but Mildred, too exhausted to do much about it, sighed. “I can see a little tooth coming in on the bottom.” 

“Oh! But why does she feel so warm?” Gwendolyn asked. 

Mildred wiped her nose on the neckline of her nightgown and and sniffed. Alice was beet red like a stop sign and screeching like a warped record. If she were to scream any harder, she would burst a blood vessel. 

“A fever is normal with teething. That’s why she’s so upset; teething is painful,” Mildred rasped. “She’ll be alright once it comes in more. Something cold might help. A frozen carrot or something.” 

Gwendolyn rushed to freeze a carrot. It sounded absurd and futile, but what could she possibly do that she hadn’t already tried? Mildred seemed to have plenty of knowledge on the subject, and frankly, Gwendolyn was out of resources. 

“How do you know so much about these things?” Gwendolyn asked as she returned to the bed and settled the baby against her shoulder, bouncing her up and down. “You knew about the umbilical cord stump and the formula. Where’d you get all this knowledge from?”

For one reason or another, insecurity settled into Mildred. Was she not smart enough, not worthy enough? Her education had been less than stellar, but she was fantastic at other things, like treating wounds and putting soldiers out of their misery with a pillow. Her cheeks flushed bright red. 

“When I was in the army, I had to take a course in midwifery to become an army nurse. I wasn’t actually a nurse, but since I looked like one, I had to take the course with the rest of them. It was one day but very detailed. I know how to look for onsets of labor, check for progress, deliver a baby, stop postpartum bleeding, and help with breastfeeding. I was given lactation credits, too, and the course included teething,” said Mildred, into a tissue. “I also read up on some things about infants and how the way they’re born and handled can affect how they progress in life. Dropping one on the floor at birth doesn’t make for a good babyhood.”

Gwendolyn chuckled and gently kissed Mildred’s forehead. She was so warm and inviting, and after a useless attempt at feeding Alice again, Gwendolyn laid the screaming baby into her playpen and procured a thermometer from the medicine cabinet, returning to Mildred. Mildred, being a stubborn one she always had been, refused it initially, but as Gwendolyn pleaded with her and begged, she opened her mouth just wide enough to fit the glass stick. 

As the mercury began to rise, Gwendolyn’s hands began to sweat. She was damp in all the wrong places and had a newfound love for fussing over Mildred, too. The mercury peaked to 101, and Gwendolyn felt faint as she pulled it from Mildred’s mouth. The younger woman grumpily settled back against the pillows and rubbed her eyes, a wave of sleep falling over herself. 

“Rest, darling. I’ll clean up, and tomorrow, I’ll take you to the clinic first thing in the morning. You need a doctor,” Gwendolyn fussed, tucking Mildred in like a sodden child in a raincoat. She kissed the tip of her nose. Mildred smelled of mucus and sickness. “Close your eyes now.”

Mildred obeyed, because she simply couldn’t hold on any longer. Gwendolyn did away with the tray of soup and let the dishes soak in a soft pond of suds before removing a cooled carrot from the freezer and placing it between Alice’s swelling gums. The baby quieted around the freshly harvested treat and sucked like it were a pacifier. Her large tears dried upon her chubby cheeks, and Gwendolyn sighed in utter relief, leaned over the playpen bars with the carrot in hand. 

“You just had to be an overachiever, didn’t you?” Gwendolyn asked Alice. “You aren’t going to let me sleep, are you?” 

Gwendolyn was talking to herself again. She was beyond spent, and her original plan was to rest and get Mildred to the clinic at sunrise, but with a teething baby and diapers to fold, she was uncertain if the half hour of sleep she could salvage would be worth it. 

Nevertheless, Gwendolyn stayed awake through the night, tending to Mildred during a nightmare and finally coaxing Alice to finish a warm bottle. The night passed on like tripping over cobblestones, with crying and screeching and used tissues. 

Mildred awakened at six, whining and holding her ears. Gwendolyn, who’d been cradling the baby for the better half of the night, immediately sprung upright and shifted sleeping Alice to one side as she felt Mildred’s head and ran a hand along her damp back. Mildred whimpered and pressed her palms into her ears, pushing and pulling and screaming. 

“Mildred, what’s wrong?” Gwendolyn asked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “What is it? Another nightmare?”

“It hurts,” Mildred moaned. A strangled sob left her mouth. “It hurts! It hurts so bad!” 

Gwendolyn moved closer and carefully moved Mildred’s right hand. A trickle of fluid leaked from Mildred’s ear, and Mildred sobbed again, startled by the watery liquid leaving the strangest crevasse of her body. It wasn’t blood, thank whatever god might’ve existed, but Gwendolyn was not at all pleased. She got out of bed, wrapped Alice in a crocheted blanket, and grabbed Mildred’s overcoat and scarf from the closet. 

Mildred couldn’t move. Every inch of her body ached and touching the floor with her feet was agonizing. Gwendolyn was quick to get Mildred bundled in her overcoat and scarf, leaving almost no skin available. Gwendolyn hastily snatched a bottle from the fridge, despite it being cold and Alice preferring warm, and tucked Alice in one arm as the other supported Mildred’s back. 

“We’re getting you to the doctor,” Gwendolyn assured, walking Mildred out of the motel room. She let her go for one second to lock the door and resumed holding Mildred. “We may have to wait outside the door for a bit, but you need to be seen immediately.” 

Then sun had risen some by the time Gwendolyn helped Mildred into the car. Mildred cradled her ears and rocked back and forth with her teeth clenched so hard they might’ve shattered. Alice was between the couple, on the seat, and although it was perfectly legal to do so, Gwendolyn quickly came to the realization that she was perhaps old enough for an infant seat. 

The nearest clinic was twenty minutes away from the motel, tucked away in the corner of a quaint shopping strip. It was small but quite the eye catcher with its bright red letters and medical symbols plastered all over the front windows. Gwendolyn parked in front, finding the sign displaying “CLOSED.” She breathed out a long sigh and checked her watch; fifteen minutes until opening. She could see a nurse shuffling about, dusting the chairs and organizing the newspapers and Life magazines. 

“My ears,” Mildred whimpered. “What is wrong with me?”

“Oh, darling,” Gwendolyn cooed. “We’re going to find out, okay? What else hurts?”

“My whole body. Mostly my face,” moaned Mildred as she tipped her head back and tried to breathe without the agony spreading across her body. “I’m dying.”

It was morbid and a bit dramatic, considering she had almost lost Gwendolyn twice, in earnest. But she thought she was dying, and god, was it painful. She had to be dying. Nothing like this was anywhere near normal. Not even her worst ear infection had made her feel as if someone lit her ears on fire. 

“You aren’t dying,” Gwendolyn soothed, a hand coming up to stroke Mildred’s cheek. Mildred winced. “Oh. It’s okay.” 

Alice fussed. Gwendolyn placed her against her shoulder and rubbed her back, allowing her to gum mercilessly on the collar of her overcoat. She was slobbering like a hound, and Gwendolyn could feel the saliva dripping down her neck. 

The nurse turned the sign to display “OPEN.” Immediately, Gwendolyn left the car, baby in tow, and helped Mildred out by grabbing one hand and guiding her over the curb. The couple quickly made their way inside and were greeted with sterile air and a few rickety chairs along each wall. The nurse behind the desk looked above her glasses and wore a look of disappointment. 

“May I help you?” the nurse asked. 

“I’m dying,” Mildred moaned, resting her head against the wall. 

“Then perhaps a hospital will suffice. We are an urgent clinic, we only have one thermometer,” said the nurse as she shuffled her papers. 

“She’s being dramatic,” Gwendolyn calmly assured. “Her ears hurt and are leaking some kind of fluid. She has a fever and body aches.” 

The nurse nodded and dropped a clipboard onto the desk. Gwendolyn took the gesture as a cue to have a seat and settle Mildred down. She chose a corner away from the sunlight and sat Mildred down, offering her the baby while she took it upon herself to fill out Mildred’s patient form. The questions seemed irrelevant to Mildred’s current condition and were more personal than Gwendolyn would’ve liked. 

Mildred was rocking whiny Alice against her chest while Gwendolyn frustratedly filled in the blanks to the best of her knowledge. The only pieces of information she knew as facts were Mildred’s height, pregnancy and breastfeeding status, and if she was currently on any medication. 

“How much do you weigh?” Gwendolyn asked. 

The sneer Mildred gave her in return quite frankly disturbed Gwendolyn, so she scribbled down a messy 120 that could’ve passed for 130. When Gwendolyn got to the personal questions, she frowned. For the sake of not being turned away, Gwendolyn checked the box next to “unmarried” and proceeded to make a note that Mildred was not at risk for any sexually transmitted infections or diseases. It was almost offensive. 

“What other symptoms are you experiencing?” Gwendolyn questioned. “Besides the obvious?”

“I’m dying,” Mildred whined. The bell above the door chimed and in came a man and woman dragging a runny-nosed little boy behind them. 

“Let me simplify. What hurts?”

“My head, ears, throat, face, chest, back,” Mildred listed off, her chest rattling with each breath. “Just put down everything.” 

Gwendolyn completed the form and returned it to the desk. The woman was now sitting across from her and Mildred and was cradling her son in her lap while her husband dealt with the papers. 

Alice was becoming fussy, so Gwendolyn took her from Mildred and shushed her as she began to feed her the lukewarm bottle. Alice quieted easily and began to drift off while suckling the formula, much to Gwendolyn’s relief. She already had a sick Mildred. She didn’t need a screaming baby in the middle of a clinic. 

The woman was staring. Her dark eyes bored into Mildred’s, watching the couple’s every move, the way Gwendolyn burped Alice after her feeding, the way Mildred absentmindedly curled against Gwendolyn’s shoulder without much care, the way Gwendolyn accidentally stroked Mildred’s cheek. 

The little boy scooted himself off his mother’s lap and flocked to the basket of toys in the corner. He picked up an abacus and sat at the small children’s table near Gwendolyn and Mildred, and Gwendolyn watched in awe of his unawareness. As he began to carelessly spin the beads around, the woman stood from her seat and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to her side of the room, and he cried, smacking her hands and pointing to the abandoned toy.

“For god’s sake, Helen, just let him play,” said the father, not once looking up from the form of which he was struggling with. 

“No! There’s. . .people over there,” hissed the woman. “He can stay here. He’s sick, anyway.” 

The boy continued to cry, reaching for the abacus on the table. Mildred covered her ears and clenched her eyes shut, the pain searing across her forehead now. Gwendolyn, exhausted of hearing the boy scream, which was causing Alice to rouse, picked up the abacus and handed it to the crying child. His tears halted, and he gave her a grin as he took it. The woman sneered and smacked the toy from his hands.

“Don’t you come over here and touch my son,” snapped Helen. “You’ve got your own heathen to take care of there.” 

“I’m sorry, but he’s crying and he just wanted to play. And quite frankly, his crying is upsetting my. . .friend over there,” Gwendolyn responded, matching her tone. “Please keep him quiet and I’ll do the same for you. No need to be so hostile.”

“Get away from my family.” Helen’s tone became ominous. 

Gwendolyn was just about prepared to lay into her, whether from lack of sleep or her oncoming headache, when a different nurse called Mildred’s name. She collected wincing Mildred and half-carried her to the back, where the nurse had Mildred sit on a chair in the hallway. She checked Mildred’s blood pressure, which seemed a bit low but nothing that would cause her symptoms. Mildred grumbled when the nurse instructed her to open her mouth for the thermometer. 102 was where the red landed, and Gwendolyn sighed. 

“She is sick all right,” the nurse quipped. “Can you stand on the scale for me?” 

Mildred reluctantly stood and stepped on that godawful thing that squeaked when she put any weight on it. The nurse scribbled down a few numbers on her clipboard, but Gwendolyn was a few feet too far to see. The nurse guided them into a small exam room, where Gwendolyn moved to the corner with Alice and Mildred begrudgingly sat atop the creaky table lined with paper. 

“I don’t like this place,” Mildred whined when the door shut. “It’s dark and cold. I wanna go home.”

“We can’t, darling,” Gwendolyn said. “Your ears are leaking and you have a high fever.”

Mildred’s little pout was precious but not enough to sway Gwendolyn’s decision, and so they waited and waited, and Mildred became tediously bored and began playing with the glass canisters of medical supplies. She was familiar with them; they weren’t anything new or exciting, but anything was better than waiting to have her body violated by someone in a white coat. 

“Mildred, don’t contaminate those things,” Gwendolyn warned while Mildred played with the cotton balls. “If you must have something to keep yourself occupied, take one and don’t touch the others.”

Mildred defiantly took two cotton balls from the jar and pulled them apart. For someone who was so sick, she certainly enjoyed destroying the cotton until a knock was heard and she quickly pocketed the evidence of her fun, to which Gwendolyn chuckled and shook her head. 

A new symptom appeared when Mildred saw the doctor; a stomachache. He was stout and round, and he seemed like every other man she’d met in the medical field. He wore a white coat and funny little glasses, and he took a brief glance between the two women before reviewing the chart in hand.

“Miss Ratched?” he asked. Mildred sniffed. “I’m Doctor Carter. What seems to be wrong?”

Mildred glaringly stared at the man like he had worms crawling out of his ears. Wasn’t that what the goddamn chart was for? Wasn’t that why Gwendolyn had exhausted herself filling out an apparently useless form? 

“I’m sick,” Mildred croaked. 

“I see. Well, I should probably examine you first,” said the doctor as he set the chart beside Mildred and approached her with haste. She flinched away and shrunk into her coat. 

Gwendolyn interrupted Dr. Carter’s orchestrated movements to get Mildred to comply with his hands pulling at her overcoat. She placed her arm between them, slicing the pair apart almost violently. 

“Please, don’t do that. Is. . .there a female doctor here? I’m sorry, but Mildred doesn’t do well with male doctors. She prefers a woman,” said Gwendolyn, her arm stuck between the two and her hand resting on Mildred’s knee as the latter quivered. 

Dr. Carter took a glance at the hand absentmindedly stroking Mildred’s knee, and he backed away a couple of paces, almost as if he’d been burned. His frown of concern quickly became that of disgust as he gathered the chart and nodded curtly.

“Very well. I’ll have Miss Baker in here for you,” he grumbled. 

“Is she a doctor?” Gwendolyn asked.

“Yes, she’s my second in command.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes narrowed. “Then please refer to her as Dr. Baker. Thank you.”

The stout man muttered incoherent obscenities to himself as he left the room with the same haste he had entered with. Mildred jumped when the door slammed. Alice cried, and Gwendolyn was overwhelmed between the crying and Mildred’s sniffling. She held Mildred close and bounced Alice, ensuring they both received equal affection. 

Footfalls approached, and Gwendolyn sprung away, returning to the corner to comfort the baby as an older, dark-skinned woman entered the room with the same chart. She was grinning ear to ear, and Gwendolyn felt balm as the doctor introduced herself with the grace that the previous did not have. 

“I saw your chart, Miss Ratched,” said Dr. Baker. “You’ve got quite the number done on you. Do you mind if I examine you?” 

Mildred nodded; she was willing to be examined, not because the doctor had asked so nicely, but because she suddenly felt comfortable. She removed her overcoat and scarf as Dr. Baker got to work on her, gently feeling her glands and using her thumbs to press lightly on her cheeks. 

“Does that hurt?” she asked Mildred. Mildred nodded. “I see.”

Everything seemed easygoing. Gwendolyn tended to Alice and kept her calm while Mildred was examined head to toe in the gentlest way possible. Mildred didn’t make a sound until Dr. Baker used a pointy light to check her ears, at which point the doctor hissed like she could feel Mildred’s pain when she whined. 

“That’s terrible,” said the doctor. “Both ears are severely infected and both eardrums are bulging.” 

“What does that mean?” Gwendolyn asked. 

“The infection is so bad that it’s causing her eardrums to be infected as well. They’re swollen and inflamed. If they rupture, they can damage her hearing or cause her to lose it altogether,” Dr. Baker said, listening to Mildred’s chest. “And she’s very congested. Double ear infection, double bulging eardrum, and a sinus infection. Poor thing.” 

Mildred didn’t miss the way Gwendolyn looked at her with such pity and sorrow in her eyes while the doctor began making notes of everything she’d discovered. 

“Miss Ratched, are you up to date on your immunizations?” Dr. Baker inquired. Mildred nodded, unable to speak. “Good. Is that your baby?”

There was a pregnant pause. Mildred and Gwendolyn shared a look before Mildred gave another meek nod. Dr. Baker didn’t bat an eye.

“Is the baby immunized?” 

“She is,” Gwendolyn lied. She hadn’t thought of that, either. “She’s just barely old enough, but Mildred makes sure she stays healthy.”

“Unfortunately, there’s no real cure or preventative for ear and sinus infections. Sinus infections are almost always caused by a virus, which can be contagious,” Dr. Baker said. “If you have anyone to help you with the baby, I recommend she stay with them just in case you pass anything on. It’s true you’re not breastfeeding, right?” 

Mildred felt embarrassed for no reason other than she thought it was a taboo question. She nodded, again, and Gwendolyn chuckled into Alice’s hair. Mildred scowled at her. How could she find such joy in her shame? 

“You need to take these antibiotics, and you can use a warm compress for the pain,” Dr. Baker instructed as she ripped a piece of paper and handed it to Mildred. “Do you work?”

Mildred sneezed into her palm. “Yes. I’m a nurse at Lucia State.” 

“Well, no work for you until you’ve been fever-free for 24 hours without the use of medication and you notice your symptoms alleviate,” said Dr. Baker. “Until then, rest, fluids, and your medication will have you better in no time.” 

Gwendolyn wanted to laugh and dance at the same time. Mildred Ratched? Staying home? Oh, how funny! 

Mildred glared at Gwendolyn. She didn’t have to get inside her head to understand what Gwendolyn was thinking; the twinkle in her eyes was telling enough. She scowled and sulked as Gwendolyn helped her put her overcoat back on. God, if she weren’t so madly in love with Gwendolyn, she might’ve kicked her.

—

The drive home was miserable and silent. Mildred was sniffling and leaned against the window watching the fresh rain drizzle. Alice was napping between them, utterly spent from the excitement of leaving home for the first time. 

“We have to get the baby vaccinated,” said Gwendolyn. “It’s going to be difficult. Those are legal documents, and technically she doesn’t belong to either of us. We didn’t think about that when we made the decision to keep her. It’s not like keeping a puppy.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Mildred hiccuped, her eyes drooping. Her throat was dry. “I hate lying. I’ve lied my whole life. But I have to. We have to. I’ll come up with something.”

Gwendolyn wasn’t too assured by Mildred’s promise, and she continued to ramble. “I’m just saying, when she’s school age and they realize she’s not a legal child, we are in a lot of trouble, Mildred. We can get charged for kidnapping. They can take her away and throw her in a foster system that doesn’t care what happens to her. We can’t do that to her, Mildred. She needs us. We are all she knows. Mildred?”

For a moment, Gwendolyn looked to her right and found Mildred fast asleep against the window, her pale lips parted and her raspy breaths escaping. Gwendolyn sighed in content, and she found herself in a conundrum upon pulling into the motel and coming to terms with the fact that she would rather die than wake either of her darlings. 

—

Infected ears didn’t stop Mildred from being her usual self while she was stuck at home. Betsy offered to bring her soup, much to Mildred’s distaste. Instead of dodging the other nurse’s calls and messages, she left Gwendolyn in charge of it, because Gwendolyn being out of the room for a few minutes meant Mildred could slide on her uniform and stumble around looking for her keys. 

Gwendolyn had Alice with her in the lobby, and Mildred was eager to get in the car and step on it, no matter how dizzy she felt. The room was spinning like a ball, and Mildred had half her uniform over her body when she needed a minute to sit and regain her senses. The minute was just a minute too long, because Gwendolyn returned, Alice on her hip like the hip baby she’d become, and clenched her jaw.

“Mildred Ratched! Back to bed!” Gwendolyn demanded, laying Alice into her playpen. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to work. It’s my shift,” said Mildred. 

“No, it’s not. I just talked to Betsy. You’re off for the rest of the week, she insisted,” Gwendolyn replied, gently removing Mildred’s uniform from her body. She picked up the discarded nightclothes and helped Mildred into them before kneeling before her. “Hey. Why are you crying?”

Mildred sobbed and wiped her cheeks. The pressure hurt. “I want to go to work. I’m a working woman, Gwen. I feel so helpless! I need to take care of people, I don’t want people to take care of me!”

Gwendolyn kissed Mildred’s forehead. Mildred was being irrational again and perhaps a bit stubborn, but Gwendolyn did not mind it. She let Mildred collapse into her and wraps her weak arms around her neck. Gwendolyn helped her back against the pillows and tucked her in, a silent affirmation that she was not going anywhere, which made Mildred sob harder. 

“You’re okay. You need to rest,” Gwendolyn insisted. “Just rest. Please, darling.”

Mildred managed to slow her labored breathing. She wiped her swollen face with a tissue and allowed Gwendolyn to play with her hair.

“I. . .found a way to legalize Alice so she can see a doctor and get vaccinated,” said Mildred, once she was still. 

“Oh? How?” Gwendolyn inquired. “Magic?”

Mildred giggled and pulled at her ear. “No. When I was in foster care, my social worker—Anna—she would fake the paperwork, like I told you. I’m still in contact with her. She can help.” 

“Mildred, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Gwendolyn. “I don’t like the thought of forging legal documents.”

“Then we have to give her away or they’ll just take her. They will steal her from us,” Mildred responded, coldly. Her voice had an edge to it, and she was close to falling off. “Look at us. People like us. We don’t get to have children. If they realize she isn’t technically a person and we just took her in, we’ll be charged with something, just like you said. Kidnapping, and probably even a charge for being lesbians, because why not. You saw the way those people and that doctor looked at us yesterday. And I saw horrible things in the system. I would never, ever allow that to happen to Alice. Anna saved me the best she could, but it was too late. She can save Alice and she will never have to experience what I did. I would never forgive myself if I knew Alice would end up beaten and starved in a foster home.” 

It wasn’t the fever talking. Mildred was sobbing and pleading in earnest now, and Gwendolyn held her and considered the worst possible outcome; having Alice violently taken away from them, being locked in a cell for taking her in to begin with, being stripped of what little rights they did have. She agreed, though woefully, to welcome Anna’s help. 

“She can’t visit until you’re feeling better,” said Gwendolyn. “That’s my only condition. Alice will be okay for a few days. Anna can visit when you don’t have a fever.”

Mildred gave Gwendolyn a little kiss and laid her head on her chest. Gwendolyn sighed, allowing herself to melt into the moment, until Alice fussed and demanded attention with a scream. 

—

It had not been three full days since Mildred’s diagnosis of a double ear infection by the time Anna was sitting in their motel room, under a dim lamp as she read over the note Alice had been abandoned with on that stormy night. 

“She’s fourteen weeks old as of today,” said Mildred, blowing her nose into a tissue as Gwendolyn put out her cigarette and sat next to the exhausted social worker. “She needs vaccines, but technically speaking, she’s not a real person. We can’t see a doctor or send her to school without a birth certificate and a social security number.”

Anna sighed and removed her reading glasses, her hands rubbing her face. She seemed a bit older now than she ever had before. Perhaps the weight of life beating her and the fudged paperwork she agonized over day in and day out was finally taking its toll. 

“So she was in a milk crate, on your doorstep?” Anna asked. “I believe you, and I did search high and low for a baby girl by the name of Alice born on August 1st, but I have no records from a hospital or a midwife. Home births are less popular with modern medicine and twilight births on the rise, but midwives are required to report a birth to the officials when they assist in a home birth. So I’m thinking, the woman who gave birth to Alice, did so alone and in secret to avoid anyone knowing. She was probably ashamed or scared.”

Gwendolyn procured the formula recipe from the end table drawer. “What I don’t understand is this. Aren’t these formula recipes prescribed by doctors? Wouldn’t Alice have to have seen a doctor or been delivered by one to get this?” 

Anna studied the small card and sighed. “Not necessarily. It doesn’t specifically say Alice’s name on it, nor was it signed. It’s just a recipe card. Breastfeeding is on a rapid decline, and you can get those cards anywhere. The birth mother might’ve gotten it from a friend, or she could’ve made it herself. We have no knowledge of the situation.” 

Mildred began to sweat. Of course, the good news was that Alice’s birth mother couldn’t be traced and had no chance at finding Alice if she had changed her mind. And of course, the bad news was that they were running in circles trying to find a solution that wouldn’t have them behind bars in five years time. 

“Please, Anna,” Mildred begged. “There has to be a way.”

“Millie, you need to turn her into the officials,” said Anna, grabbing Mildred’s hands. “She needs a birth certificate. You need to take her to the station and say you just found her on your doorstep today. They will find out that she’s not a legal person and create a certificate for her. But I can’t guarantee that they will allow you to keep her.”

Mildred’s eyes stung. She didn’t understand why Anna couldn’t fudge the papers herself, like she’d done all those years ago. Perhaps Anna was just tired of lying, tired of running, tired of everything. Maybe she didn’t want to lie anymore. Maybe she wanted to tell the truth for once.

“Please, Anna,” Mildred sobbed again. “What else can we do? You know they won’t let people like us keep her. You know that for a fact!”

Anna did know that, and she was exhausted. Her shoulders fell with the weight of Mildred’s request, but as she watched Gwendolyn soothe Alice for a nap with the charisma of every loving mother, a dial turned inside of her, and she sighed again. 

“Here’s what you can do,” Anna began. Gwendolyn hurried over with Alice tucked in her arms and sat down. “Mildred. You need to speak with a registrar. I can give you names and the address. When you go, you must do and say exactly as I’m telling you now. Take Alice with you. Tell them you are a lone mother and you had an unassisted home birth by accident. If they ask why it took you three months to report the birth, tell them that you were afraid of leaving your home with a newborn baby. You should use your real name. Don’t use any false information about yourself.” 

“So just lie?” Mildred asked wryly. “I can do that.” 

“But remember, Mildred, there will be no father or second name on the certificate. Just yours. Of course, you can still raise Alice with Gwendolyn, but she won’t be considered a legal parent, unfortunately. So when it comes to legal decisions, you must be the one to sign and accept full custody,” Anna warned. 

She seemed remorseful for Gwendolyn, but Gwendolyn wasn’t too bruised. She understood that someone had to sacrifice, and that someone had to be Mildred because it fit together better. Mildred was a smooth, comfortable liar. Gwendolyn was not. 

“Are you sure this will work?” Gwendolyn asked. “A lot of lies. Someone will have to figure out that it was a lie.”

“Not necessarily. I’m confident it will work and Alice will be all yours,” Anna assured. “You two are smart. No one will be able to know that Mildred lied about giving birth to Alice. There’s no test to determine if Alice belongs to Mildred. The only way they will know is by holes in the story or Mildred flat out admitting she isn’t the biological mother.” 

Gwendolyn was a skeptic, but nevertheless, she surrendered to Mildred’s pleading eyes, and she nodded in acceptance. 

—

The office was hot and muggy for an autumn day. Mildred sat rigidly in a stiff, squeaky chair, Alice bouncing in her lap as the registrar typed furiously on his typewriter. He was a stalky man with a receding hairline and a hard attitude to please. 

“Who is the baby’s father?” the man asked. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Mildred said smoothly. Her sunglasses prevented her eyes from revealing her fib. “It was one of those things, you know. A fellow picks up a lady and things go too far. It was the reason I never told anyone about my pregnancy or had a doctor. I was too ashamed, but now I’m not, and I don’t think it’s your business. Just type.”

He grunted. Mildred’s arms felt like they were about to disperse from her body at any moment. Alice had been quiet all morning, but it seemed she was missing Gwendolyn, because she was becoming fussy and whiny and no amount of shushing would do. 

“Just so we are clear, she was six pounds even at birth, and nineteen inches long?” asked the registrar. 

“That’s what I said,” Mildred replied, her heart thumping. “Wasn’t it? You don’t pay very much attention.” 

“First name is Alice, last is Ratched. No middle name?” 

Middle name? Mildred hadn’t considered it. She and Gwendolyn both had a first and last. A middle had never crossed her mind, but how joyous she felt. 

“Briggs. B-R-I-G-G-S.”

The registrar looked above the typewriter and quirked a brow. Mildred maintained a thin-lipped smile and bounced Alice harder, almost squirming in her seat. With a heaved breath, the registrar reviewed the information once more and released the completed paper. 

“I will send this off, and she will be an official citizen of the state of California. You will receive your own in the mail at the address provided, although I’m concerned that it’s a motel, within seven days.” 

Mildred stood, Alice on her shoulder, and nodded once in a goodbye. She backed away at first, uncertain if she had been experiencing a delusion from a prolonged fever, or if this was real, but when Alice screeched in her ear, exhibiting hunger cues, Mildred understood. Her feet were on the ground, her head was screwed on straight, and she wasn’t sleeping this time.

—

Seven days came and went quickly. A yellow envelope slid into the motel room, and Gwendolyn picked it up as Mildred was preparing for her shift. Mildred joined Gwendolyn in opening the envelope, anticipating Alice’s certification of being a real, living human being recognized as theirs. 

“Alice Briggs Ratched?!” Gwendolyn exclaimed. “How did you get my last name on there?”

Mildred adjusted her earring and checked herself in the mirror. “Well, I could not hyphenate as I originally planned, so when the registrar asked if she had a middle name, I chose your last name so when you say her full name, it sounds like both of ours put together.”

Awestricken, Gwendolyn wrapped her arms around Mildred and held her close. Mildred was more than putty in Gwendolyn’s arms, and she found herself immersed with Gwendolyn’s warmth, a fanatic over it, even. 

“You found a loophole,” Gwendolyn said as she lifted Mildred’s chin. “I love you.” 

“And I love you, but I’m late,” Mildred replied. “Kiss Alice for me, okay?” 

Gwendolyn hummed in a positive response, and when the door closed, she picked groggy Alice up from her playpen and kissed the top of her soft head. She smelled of bath salts and baby powder. 

“Well, Alice Briggs Ratched, it seems you will be with us for a long, long time,” Gwendolyn cooed. “It’s not going to be easy, especially with two mothers, but I think we can find a way, hm? Mama is a good liar, and though lying is wrong, I think she did the right thing this time. You’re all ours.” 

Of course, when Betsy Bucket caught wind of the news in the break room of Lucia State Hospital, she and Mildred returned to the motel in tandem, and of course Betsy had a bottle of moscato, and of course Mildred was willing to have a drink. Or ten.


End file.
